*******'s "Oh God Don't Hate Me" Christmas Edition

Welcome kids to the dysfunctional of my spiritual existence. My grand parents (one word? yeah one word... eh hem), grandparents are admititly agnostic.
Defined (FOR YOU FUCKERS WHO TRY TO ARGUE WITH ME, YOU ENGLISH NAZIS) by the Webster's dictionary as :
1. a person who holds that the existence of the ultimate cause, as God, and the essential nature of things are unknown and unknowable, or that human knowledge is limited to experience.
2. a person who denies or doubts the possibility of ultimate knowledge in some area of study.
I except both definitions as characterizing my spiritual attitudes.
So pardon me but there are just a few things in this world that i cringe at when i hear them discussed 1) children (having them or being around them 2) anything having to do with things touching eyes 3) Professional baseball 3) Jesus/God and 4) republican talking points. God, i just don't believe people are still falling for all that. Get a fucking thought of your own, look back and see what you're putting your life into.
And that's all, that's as personal as i'm going to get for right now.
Oh, by the way:
Now.."Why do you waste my time?"
Is the answer to the question on your mind
And I'm sick of all my judges
so scared of what they'll find
But I know that I can make it
As long as somebody takes me home,
every now and then...

Oh, have you ever seen the lights?

It's gotten to the point that i don't expect or want people to read this. If you're reading this sentence right now i guess you don't care. Good for you. I think i'd do the same thing in your position, depending on my mood.
A quick story:
Thanksgiving i spend in L.A. with my sister and a man named Mike that i had met on my last visit. A man. That didn't mean too much to me before but it did after i left. I realized i'd been dealing with boys. What a surprise for me.
The party my sister threw with a dozen of her friend started out normal. I made cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes from scratch. When i wanted to smoke weed, me and Mike went outside and had a great continuation of our conversations from football earlier that day. Every time we came back inside the mood of the party had shifted more. . . more and more drunken stupidity. I was very embarrassed. I had gotten Mike invited to this party and now my sister and her friends were making asses of themselves. Mike said he was going to leave and i felt like screaming no.
Although he tried a number of times, i always managed to pull him back in with my wit and humor (someone has to stroke my ego). I got him to stay an hour more. Then we went inside again, my sister proclaimed "Everyone Put on a HAT!" and started going though her collection as she lifted up her skirt and giggled at her leering boyfriend. I wanted to vomit. He put on his helmet and declared that he was leaving and i offered to walk him to he's motorcycle. My sister's roommate Kitty was on the front porch and asked me if i was going to. I told her i'd be right back and walked down the stone steps to Mike's parked Triumph. And then...
We made idle conversation when he said exactly what i wanted to hear. He told me i could come with him and escape the embarrassing debotchery that was going on inside. I glanced back up at the house, knowing what i had just told Kitty and decided something very important. I claim to (and have a little) be a risk taker in my life, but that's not true. But this was just one of those moments. I put on the helmet and jacket that i had worn to get there and straddled the motorcycle and took off down the hill to Highland. The sole of my 4 inch stilettos could barely stay on the passenger steps and i held on to Mike as we took off.
What a fucking cliche. My knight in shining armor. But of course for me... for me it's a bad man on a Trimuph. My dreams aren't this good. I held on tight and laid my head against his back and looked down and the pavement zipping by me. Oh my god, was that a yellow line we just crossed? We go back over it. Yes, yes it was, dear god my heart is pumping. Not hard enough to keep me warm though. With my knees clamping Mike's sides, i felt him rhythmically vibrate. When we came to a stop i realized that he was laughing, and what he was laughing at. Apparently i had lost all control of my lower legs and they were shivering.
So embarrassed.
He kept on laughing at it. I bet it felt funny.

I don't think i'll ever forget.
And that's what i should keep with me. Nothing else. It's forgetting everything else that's the hard part.

30 minutes ago. I packed my long bong with the shake from the bottom of a large ziplock bag. I took half of it. It wasn’t very much. Then I immediately ate a triangle half a sandwich. All sandwiches should be cut diagonally. Big thick 7 grain bread from this place called Jimmy Johns that delivers. Then I had a vicodin and smoked the rest of the weed. Nestled on top of the pill in my stomach I was going to put another layer of sandwich but decided not to. And this is my Friday night.

Lame.

But my pussy really hurts from the surgery. I mean god damn it, I can’t fuck for several weeks which would really mess up my… um… next several weeks. (smiles).

Fuck the bartholin gland and whatever god decided I need an extra 3% of vaginal secretions.

I’m sorry. Where you eating?

Then you might not want to look at the image on this post.

I am mad at a some vestigial structure. And are now high but still recovering from surgery.

Have a good night.